Pirate - Duncan Falconer [86]
The bumping suddenly increased markedly and he felt himself passing over a set of larger waves. Had to be the bulker’s bow waves. He spread out his arms and legs to make himself a more stable platform. He was drawing in behind the carrier. When he was over the waves, the ride became a lot smoother. He wondered how far he was from the vessel and where the girl might be. He had been five or six hundred metres from the cargo ship when he was on his front. That meant she had to be a good fifteen hundred metres behind him. Well behind the pirates.
He craned up to see the pirate ship cutting across the bow waves and falling into the bulker’s track.
A young British private security guard on the stern of the cargo ship was observing the pirate vessel through a pair of binoculars.
As he watched it cross the bow waves, he raised a radio to his mouth. ‘Bob. That dodgy boat I reported earlier. It’s even more dodgy now. It’s moved in right behind us.’
‘Roger that,’ came the reply over the radio. ‘Sound the alarm. All security hands to the stern. Don’t forget your bloody weapons. You got that, Captain?’
‘Yes, Bob,’ came the captain’s voice over the radio.
The bulker’s alarms began to sound and crewmen working on deck dropped what they were doing, hurried into the ship’s superstructure by the nearest door and bolted it shut. A security guard hurried through the carrier ensuring it was battened down.
‘Full speed, Captain,’ Bob shouted over the radio. ‘Commence evasive action.’
As the stern guard continued to observe the vessel following it, two more security guards stepped from the bulker’s superstructure carrying AK-47 assault rifles. They jogged along the decks and down steps, converging on to the poop deck to join their mate on the rear rail beyond a massive pair of anchor winches. After a couple of minutes the other security guard stepped down to the group. Another joined them. They now made five. The entire bulker vibrated as the engines reached maximum revolutions. A claxon joined in the general cacophony of bells and whistles.
The water directly below the poop deck churned up through the massive submerged propellers to create an even larger wake The carrier began to lean over a little as it started a hard turn.
An overweight, older-looking security guard marched out of the superstructure and across the deck to join the others looking over the rail. By his bearing and confidence, he was clearly the senior man.
‘What we got here then?’ Bob, the head of the security detachment, asked gruffly, grabbing the binoculars hanging around his subordinate’s neck to take a look for himself.
‘You reckon they’re pirates?’ one of the men asked, anxious. Apart from Bob, young guys made up the team, all of whom had military experience of a kind. Two were territorial soldiers who had missed out on any long-term drafts abroad and seen no action at all. One was a former fusilier who had done a basic three years with a short draft to Iraq but seen no action. The other two were ex-Royal Marine drivers and had done a couple of stints in Afghanistan with a little action but nothing to write home about. All had joined the maritime security circuit for two reasons only and they were the pay and a chance to travel. The men had all worked the maritime circuit for a few years but none had seen a pirate before.
‘Where’s all the other smaller boats they’re supposed to use?’ asked the bigger of the two ex-Marines.
‘There’s no usual when it comes to these fellas,’ Bob said.
The other Marine nudged his mate and gave him a look like he doubted Bob knew that much about it. ‘So just ’ow many pirates ’ave you actually seen, Bob?’ he said.
Bob appeared reluctant to answer. ‘These would be my first, laddy, like all of you lot,’ he said. ‘But unlike you lot, I’ve done over fifty of these runs and I’ve read all there is to know about the buggers and talked to loads